I can't recall London's weather conditions in February with any greater clarity than I could describe my prevailing mental state, but suffice it to say things were cold, damp and grey as usual and thus not very interesting - and the weather was little better. However, I had a solution. My perverse logic told me that if I were to go somewhere where the weather was more severe, conditions might not seem so uncomfortable back here by comparison and I would experience some more exciting weather into the bargain. Of course a few days camping atop the Brecon Beacons with a leaking tent could achieve this objective, but a man's got to know his limitations. After some consideration it seemed more sensible to opt for the North Atlantic.
I had always wanted to go to Iceland so I made some enquiries. I learned from the Iceland Tourist Board that there had been relatively little snow over the winter to the extent that the snow-mobile rental business was feeling a bit left out in the cold, so to speak. Furthermore, a contact in Reykjavik told me that it was warmer than usual for the time of year, at a sweaty 1º C. Not as cold as I had imagined, but I assumed that she hadn't included the all-important wind-chill factor. I decided upon a short break in Reykjavik, once a deal had been found which wouldn't haemorrhage my bank account.
We touched down at Keflavik airport under a familiar looking grey sky. There wasn't much snow around but something told me it wouldn't remain so. As the shuttle bus to Reykjavik pulled away from the airport's wacky sculptures and proceeded along the straight road north-east through the stark lava fields of the Reykjanes Peninsula, I was comforted by something I had read about Iceland's capricious weather. It goes something like - if you don't like the weather now, give it five minutes. About 30 miles later, we were installed in the hotel. The room had a splendid north-facing view across a building site, some suburbs and the sea. The twinkling lights of the town of Akranes about 13 miles away were beginning to illuminate as the evening approached and almost all of the 2982ft high Mount Esja was in view to the north east. The suicide-proof window wouldn't open very far but if I squeezed my head far enough out through the gap into the chilly breeze and looked west down the main road I could just see the spire of the Hallgrímskirkja and the town centre, just under a mile away.
An initial excursion into town soon followed. The town centre and Laugavegur, the main shopping street which leads to it, were quiet, with just restaurants, bars and a couple of supermarkets still open. At £5 a pint, pubs were unfortunately, off the agenda and anyway I'd visited the duty free shop earlier, so the alcohol issue had been taken care of. The town looked very pretty with white fairy lights illuminating the trees in the streets and in Austurvöllur, the square in front of the Parliament building. I don't know if these were maintained throughout the year, or were just the remnants of Christmas festivities, but it felt a million miles from tacky London. We wandered around some of the local landmarks for a while and noted the popularity of what appeared to be stuffed puffins in curio shops, and then it happened - snow, loads of it, driving near-horizontally through the streets, getting in my face, getting in my pockets. This was what I had come here for - it just doesn't happen in London any more.
Turning a corner we found a hot-dog vendor and had our first taste of Icelandic fast food. My experience of the local cuisine wasn't to get much more sophisticated, frankly, but it suited the moment. Intent on not forking out too much for food, I had brought with me biscuits, pistachio nuts, peanuts, vodka and a firm intention to pig-out at the hotel's breakfast buffet. It had everything one needed to keep the carbohydrates and caffeine level up. No putrefied shark meat, or puffin but plenty of pickled herring which, once tried, didn't form a significant part of my intake, it has to be said. We supplemented this diet by making sandwiches with various cheesy and fishy sandwich spreads from the supermarket. I'm not sure how long we could maintain this thriftiness as we were only there for 4 days, but impoverished low-budget travellers take note - you don't have to spend an obscene amount of cash to maintain your basic metabolism.
From the hotel room, when I wasn't distracted by the telly (a disappointing selection comprising CNN, MTV, porn etc.) there was a perfect view of the snowstorm, and its limited consequences for traffic on the main road below, compared with the chaos we're used to here. Nobody appeared to slow down significantly, but then the roads were being cleared and much of the traffic seemed to consist of off-road vehicles. The scene outside was complimented by the constant howl of wind resonating through the ventilation system in the bathroom.
The following morning brought no change in the weather and as the dawn progressed we could see the various landmarks appearing and disappearing as banks of snow-bearing, low cloud swept in from the ocean. The day's excursion got off to a false start when I had to come back in and put on my thermal long johns. Once the situation was rectified, progress could be made in comfort. Struggling along Sæbraut, the main road along the bay towards the harbour, it was hard work trying to stay upright in the face of the gale. The locals had a mountain goat-like tenacity which we outsiders couldn't match, and seemed to be un-perturbed by comparison. Didn't matter though - it was fun and it wasn't going to end quickly, unless I were to drop my guard and let the wind fling me over the sea wall or across the road into the path of a snow-plough. The only problem was freezing fingers within a few minutes of taking off my gloves to use a camera. The general temperature was 0º and the wind was near gale force from the west, so with that wind-chill factor it worked out at something like a buttock-clenching -12ºC.
The high point of the day was going up to the 245ft high viewing level in the spire of the Hallgrímskirkja, the distinctive church on a hill overlooking the city centre. Having struggled across its forecourt to the main entrance, we found it closed due to the weather and we were directed to the entrance at the opposite end. This took us through a room which appeared to be hosting a keep-fit class for some of the local senior citizens, but they weren't bothered by the intrusion. A lift took us up to the viewing level just below the belfry. It was open to the elements and produced an almost unbearable, deafening wind tunnel-effect. The view over the city was great but I wasn't too confident about how steady my photos would be. The old folks were still there when we left but had settled down to something less strenuous, presumably to conserve energy for their inescapable journey home.
I could go on, but space doesn't permit it. Anyway, I think you get the picture. By the way, I took the Insight Guide to Iceland which was informative and adequate for a short stay. I took no street map as nothing was published at the time. Now we have the Iceland Insight FlexiMap which includes a Reykjavik streetplan and is waterproof, which is appropriate given the conditions you may encounter. Also interesting for portraying the bigger picture is South-West Iceland map published by Landmælingar Islands, the Icelandic survey organisation. It is centred on Reykjavik and includes all of the Reykjanes Peninsula, and extends east to the highlands through which many organised excursions pass. In the town hall at Reykjavik there is an enormous raised relief map of Iceland on display and well worth a look. It's a one-off, so don't ask if we can get one.
Author: Chris Anguish
Date: 1 October 2001